Could Have Been Me
by Der Traumer
Summary: When you meet someone very much like yourself, that could even be you, and then you watch them die under horrible circumstances, you can only feel lucky.
1. Ripple Effect

This is my first WK fic, so i hope you like it, plz read and review, constructive critism is always accepted

Disclsimer: WK is not mine, and neither is Schwarz ::sob:: ::sniff::

Warning: depression, suicide, and warped minds, but what else can you expect from a Schwarz fic?**

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**Ripple Effect**

_**scream**_

_**but the world won't hear you**_

_**cry**_

_**but the world doesn't care**_

_**when the world hurts**_

_**it'll see you**_

"I wish someone cared about me," the words slip through Sierra's lips.

She doesn't know I'm standing next to her, or that is what I have told her mind.

"I wish I wasn't cold and alone," she breathes.

_You're not alone,_ I want to tell her, but know that it would only scare her.

"Celio, why have you abandoned me?" she cries through tears that are now running down her face.

I resist the urge to gag. This is the only thing about Sierra that I despise. Her belief in this God and his angels is foolish. If there is a God he couldn't care less. If there are angels, the last thing they'd be doing is watching out for a human race that's eating at itself.

It's cold out and she wraps her arms tighter about her shoulders. "I hate my life! I wish I would die!"

But she doesn't have the courage to end her own life. How I know those feelings. How many times I uttered those words.

A light turns on behind her and there's a click as the door opens. "Sierra come inside, it's getting cold!"

"Coming!" she answers. _Like you care!_

Her last thought echoes through my mind. I sigh and shove my hands into my pockets, beginning the long trek back to our penthouse. Sierra is an empath, but she doesn't know it. All she knows is that she always hurts, and then everybody else hurts, and they blame her. She is as alone as she feels.

Just like I was. Telepathy and empathy aren't that different you know. When I was a child I was an outcast. I could hear things I wasn't supposed to, and I couldn't control my projection, much like Sierra now. When I got angry or scared, everyone around me knew, there was no way for me to prevent it. It wasn't my fault, but all the same it left me all alone.

oxo

I stare at the sleeping figure through her window. If she opens her eyes she'll see me. I've been pushing my luck lately, like I subconsciously want her to see me. I shake my head; I'm just insane enough to come up with an idea like that.

I can see her dreams. They're painfully like my own. The whole world turns its back on her, but there's one person, always some strong handsome man, that still loves her. She melts into that embrace.

I smirk. I remember the perfect features, long brown hair, and deep brown eyes that belonged to my angel. The angel that I thought would save me from the world. That angel never came to my rescue, and I know never will.

Looking down at her peaceful face, I realize that, ironically, that she looks a lot like that angel. I grin, or maybe I'm delusional.

oxo

From my perch atop the fence around there school yard I can see Sierra talking with her friends. Yes, she has friends. They talk behind her back, and think that she is suicidal, but she still considers them friends. She's desperate to fit in, even though she knows she never will.

"Can you come over tonight?" Sierra asks a girl with short light brown hair.

The girl looks at her feet, and I can read her discomfort across her features, without having to look into her thoughts. Sierra feels it, though she masks her internal frown and pushes the notion away. She doesn't believe in her powers much like me when I first realized the voices in my head were the thoughts of others.

"I'm sorry, Sera," she uses the childish nickname to lighten the mood, "I've got a doctor's appointment."

She's only partially lying. Her "doctor's appointment" is really a meeting with her psychiatrist. More important, though, is the fact that even if she wasn't busy, her mother doesn't want her to talk to Sierra. She thinks Sierra is the reason that her daughter became bipolar.

I shake my head. If only she knew Sierra really was the cause, in more ways then she could guess. This is something I was never exposed to as a child. Sure, I was shunned because I heard "voices" but I was never blamed for the ailments of others, or at least not as openly as Sierra was.

Sierra shakes it off, but she can feel the distrust. I can hear her thoughts. _You're just being paranoid_, they whisper.

_I only wish you were, _I want to tell her.

oxo

I sit right next to her on her fence tonight, but I've told her mind, just like all the other nights that I'm not here. I watch over her shoulder as she writes in a worn blue journal that she's had since the entries were merely about boys and crushes and broken hearts. Entries that came before her empathy awakened.

_Nicky was lying today. I know she was. I think her mother thinks I'm a freak, just like Samantha's._

Ah, Samantha. I remember that incident only too well. The tears and the screams as Sierra pleaded with Samantha's mother that her poetry was not suicidal and that she didn't mean to make Samantha depressed. Samantha was still in a mental institution from multiple suicide attempts.

What had always been left out of that story was in that same week, Sierra's parents divorced, unfortunately that could have been caused by Sierra too. I never looked into it.

Sierra's hurt hurts others, leaving her no one to lean on.

_Then again, maybe I am a freak. Whenever I'm sad so is everyone else. I'm so sorry._

Tears were starting at the corners of her eyes.

_I'm not meant to be alive, am I? _

She grins humorlessly.

_That question is pointless. Of course I'm not meant to be alive. Nothing that is meant to be alive hurts others. I should be dead. I'm a child of the devil. Maybe that's why Celio abandoned me._

There she goes with that Celio nonsense. If the man is real I would really like to take a couple of swings at him for all the hurt he causes this already torn child. But on the flipside of the coin, she is a child of the devil. We all are, us with "talents". No powers as demonic as our own can possibly be given by the hand of God, cruel or not.

Sierra closes her notebook and picks up her cell phone where it lies on the ground next to her. She dials a number. It's a number for people who are feeling suicidal, I know. I wonder if Sierra knows every time she calls another of their employees takes their own life.

They're slowly catching onto the trend, though. If Brad were here he'd probably be able to give an exact date for when it'll be all over the newspapers, Sierra's name and all.

"Yeah, thanks," Sierra murmurs the reply like she always does.

I can almost hear the thoughts of the woman she had been talking to. _Why the hell can't I have more then this pathetic job? Why can't I have a REAL life? Why does my boss always yell at me? I can't take it anymore! _

BANG

That's what they always sound like when they hang up the phone.

Sierra leans back and stares up at the night sky. "I wish I was like one of the stars," she says to no one in particular, but they way she says it makes it sound like she's talking to me.

She sighs heavily and stands, stretching in the same motion. "Goodbye," she whispers to the night sky. _Angel._

The last thought catches me off guard and I wonder whether she knows I was there.

oxo

Sierra walks in to school the next morning to be met with pointed fingers and stares. As she walks by, people shy away from her, and hover in little groups just out of her vision whispering. They're all whispering the same thing.

"She's the girl in the newspaper."

Her own friends won't talk to her. And she doesn't know why; she doesn't read the news.

When she gets home, her mother isn't there. Sierra doesn't know it, but she's at some court not far away, pleading that Sierra had nothing to do with the counselor suicides.

I'm sitting at her kitchen table, but again she cannot see me.

I watch her expression contort as she sees the newspaper, flung open across the table. She sees the articles. She reads their titles and starts to sob.

I understand why; the titles read things like "Sierra Miller, a New Kind of Killer?" and "Is Suicide Contagious?"

She yanks her phone out, but doesn't dial the suicide hotline number. She dials a number that I've only seen her dial once before. She hadn't called Carrie since the day that Samantha went into the mental home. Carrie was seeing a psychiatrist before she met Sierra, and so seemed unfazed by her empathy.

Today though, I'm not sure it will be that easy. Sierra's self loathing and depression are trying to push their way through _my_ mental barriers. They may be able to hurt Carrie too, despite her already being ill.

"Carrie! Have you read the papers?" she cries into the phone, still choking on tears.

There is silence as she waits for a response.

"But I didn't…it's not my fault…" None of her thoughts are completed, and she continues to sob into the phone.

The thoughts carried along the phone line are unreadable to me because I'm too busy trying to hold Sierra's hurt out of my mind.

The bang on the other end of line is heard even by me, sitting two chairs away.

Sierra's shock momentarily stops her self-hatred, and then I can hear screaming on the other end of the line.

Monster is the only word that I can make out.

Before I have a chance to stop her Sierra has grabbed a knife from the kitchen. Without the slightest hesitation she tears it down both her wrists. Blood spatters everywhere, and I know there's no way to save her.

I drop to my knees next to her, allowing her to see for the first time in nearly six years. I lift her to my chest, suddenly feeling responsible for her taking her own life. "Sierra, damn it, hang on!" The words are pointless; she's already unconscious in my arms.

_Thank you, Angel._

"What?" I ask, hearing the words.

_Thank you._

"Sierra?" I realize whose the voice is. "Oh, God, Sierra, stay with me." It's too late; she practically sliced all the way through her wrist, let alone cutting the vein there. She's already dead. I lean over her dead body, tears leaking from eyes for the first time since I had joined Schwarz. "I can't have been your Angel," I breathe, "Your Angel could have saved you."

With that, I stand and step aside, hearing the thoughts coming from the door. Sierra's mother along with several policemen has arrived.

I have disappeared to them. They'll never know I was here.

Sierra's mother sees Sierra lying on the ground in the puddle of blood. "See?" she cries, tears dripping down her cheeks. "This is what you did to her!" She screams at them, but I can hear her real thoughts. _Thank God she's gone._

_How unmotherly of you, _I croon into her head then walk out the still open door without them ever noticing.

As I walk home a story of a young boy comes to mind. When he was child, he had powers, powers that he couldn't control. People, even his own classmates called him a freak, a monster, even a demon for things he heard. One day, he got angry, and the next day the boy didn't come to school. The teachers all said that he got sick and had to go to a special hospital. It was overlooked, and even the second time it was deemed coincidence. The third time though, it was traced back to the boy. He hadn't intended to hurt anyone, but now he was a monster, and he would always be a monster because of these demonic powers that he had. He had wanted to take his own life as well, but his Angel had saved him, not the beautiful angelic creature he had imagined, but a scarred angel with silver hair and only one eye. That angel had saved him.

If only I could have been Sierra's Angel, maybe I could have saved her from her own ripple effect like Farfarello had saved me.

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That was sorta dark, i know, but there's no such thing as a happy-go-lucky Schwarz fic, sry. There will be no mention of Wiess at all in this fic if anyone cares, I'm a strictly Schwarz fan. 

thanks a bunch to you readers and thanks to my proofreaders


	2. Blood

I don't usually post two chapters at once, just cuz I prefer to see what people think first, but here, what the heck. For the Farfarello fans out there, I guess. Plz read and review.

Warnings: death, cutting, mild shonen-ai (no real sacriligeous stuff, and that's wierd for a Farf fic, but whatever)

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**Blood**

**_drip drip_**

**_the sound of blood_**

**_drip drip_**

**_maniacal laughter_**

**_drip drip_**

**_they lock the door_**

Cold air rips its way through my short silver hair. A normal person would have shuddered, but I can't feel the bite of the cold. I sigh inwardly and draw a short knife from its sheath at my waist. Contemplatively I run it along my tongue, relishing the cool taste of the steel and the coppery taste of my blood.

"Hurry up, damn it," I mutter aloud, waiting for Schuldig's signal. If he doesn't hurry I'm not going to bother waiting to cut up psychiatrists, I'm going to cut up me.

An explosion shatters a window on the east side of the building. That is my cue. I burst from the shadows and sprint lightning fast toward the mental institution. I break down the heavy metal door and slice my way through a startled nurse.

I grin maliciously feeling her blood spatter over my clothing and let my blood lust take over. Don't ask how many people I killed before I met Schuldig on the third story.

He has two floppies in his hand. "Come on, Farf," he says and pockets them. "You're a mess; Brad is going to be pissed."

I shrug, Crawford is always pissed.

On our way out through, I smell blood and stop. Schuldig turns and glares at me as I make my way through burning debris. "Come on, Farf, the police are going to be here any minute."

I ignore him like I always do and continue to make my way down the corridor.

On thefloor in one of the rooms is a girl. She's passed out from the smoke, but in her hand is a shard of glass and down her arm, not deep enough to be a suicide attempt is a long shallow cut. It's self inflicted, I realize.

Schuldig is behind me. "Dammit, Farf, let's go." He sees the girl too. "So, she's like you. At least a little."

I can't tell what he thinks about her by his tone.

Without hesitation though, I stoop and lift her up.

"Nuh-uh, Farf, she's not coming with us."

"I know. But, she doesn't belong here." I pause to think of why. "We're not the insane."

"I beg to differ," Schuldig answers, but says no more when I glare at him.

He's not used to me showing any kind of sentiments toward anybody.

I wait until we're almost to the penthouse before I tell Schuldig to stop the car. He sighs, thinking I'm an idiot loud enough for me to hear, and pulls over near the city park. I get out of the car and set her on oneof the more secluded benches. After a moment of thought, I walk around behind the car and open the trunk. There's a suitcase in the back that has a pair of cargo pants and a black t-shirt in it. I pull it out and set it by the bench.

"Hey, those are mine," Schuldig protests loudly.

I glare at him again. "She'll get sent to some new asylum if someone sees her walking around in that damn robe," is all I tell him.

Schuldig growls. "Since when did you care about anyone but yourself?"

I think a moment. "I care about you now don't I?" I lean over toward him and Schuldig tangles his hand in my hair, as short as it is and kisses me brutally hard.

oxo

The next morning I wake up hanging in a straight jacket from the ceiling in my room. On the floor are fresh blood stains. From their smell they are probably still wet. I was in a particularly blood thirsty mood last night.

I squirm in the straight jacket and I can feel the rub of the fabric against my cuts. It doesn't hurt, but it feels…different.

Schuldig comes in and I squint to see him in the newly brightened room.

"You awake?" he asks.

I nod awkwardly from my upturned position.

Without replying he raises himself to his toes and undoes the latch holding my feet to the ceiling and lets me fall to the ground with a thump. He knows I can't feel it. He undoes the arm restraints and the back and I fling the cursed thing off myself.

"You know, Farf, if you really don't like it, you shouldn't let Brad put it on you."

I shrug, and then decide, "I'm going out."

"Uh-uh." Schuldig bars my way to the door. "Where?"

"Out," I repeat, trying to maneuver around him.

He puts his hand on the door frame to bar my way yet again. "Where?" he asks again. "Wait! You're going to look for that girl, aren't you? Farf, no good is going to come of you having anything to do with her. You know that."

There's slight pleading in his voice, as well as a hint of jealousy.

"It's no different than Sierra."

This strikes a nerve, and I slip past while he contemplates.

oxo

When I reach the park I see her immediately. She's in Schuldig's cargo pants and black t-shirt, which are too big for her. In the tree nearest her are her robe and what appears to be a dog tag of some kind.

Silently I climb up the tree in order to watch her better. I pick up the dog tag and read the name. 7965, Hathersfield, Erika, it reads.

"Erika," I mouth the name silently and look down at her. It suits her, with her earlobe length brown hair that is still tousled from last night and her bright eyes. I would never leave Schuldig, but this girl is pretty.

She's drawing red lines down her arm around the slowly healing cut from the night before with a rusted nail. Suddenly she drives it under her skin, causing blood to spurt from her arm.

She giggles and drives the nail deeper, causing more blood to well up from it. Finally when the nail is almost an inch into her arm, she withdraws it. Now she lifts her arm up to her face a laps at the blood absently.

I wonder if it hurts her to drive the nail into her arm and if she enjoys the pain. Or maybe, she really is like me and cannot feel the pain at all.

She draws another long line of blood parallel to the first cut with the nail and then abruptly looks up. Her two large brown eyes meet my single gold one. They widen some in shock, but she does not scream, only stares.

She slips the nail into her pocket and stands to leave without saying a word.

oxo

I am examining the small dots of blood spotting my arm when Schuldig saunters into the living room. "Hey, Farf, whatcha'…" he cuts off when he sees me with the nail in my hand in the blood running in rivulets down my arm.

"Goddammit, Farfarello!" He yanks the nail out of my hand. "God, Farf, get a knife or something, at least they're clean! You trying to give yourself tetanus?"

I look up at him startled by his reaction. "What difference is there between a nail and a knife?"

Schuldig sighs exasperatedly. "This is a rusted nail," he holds it up like I don't already know that. "It is dirty and will make you sick if you cut yourself with it, and the last thing we need is you to be going to spasms on the floor because you gave yourself lock jaw."

I stare confusedly up at him but don't protest when he takes the nail and pitches into the trashcan across the room. Nagi glares at him when the can totters over and lands on its side, but Schuldig doesn't care.

He looks at me again with his bright green eyes, and then disappears down the hall, to return with a brown tinted bottle and role of gauze. He unceremoniously dumps the bottle over my arm, ignoring the stains it leaves on the sofa, and wraps the bandage around it.

He is still staring at me curiously. "God, Farf, what the hell possessed you do a thing like that?" He pauses. "Never mind, don't answer that."

I just shrug and walk toward me room where my knives are.

oxo

I can see her where she's sitting on the bank of the lake, her arms wrapped about her shoulders, shaking in the cold. I'm not cold, where I stand several paces behind her, silent enough that she won't know I'm here. Absently, I wonder if she's ever left the park since I brought her here two nights ago.

She fidgets with something in one of the many pockets of her pants, and then yanks out the nail. She tosses it up and catches it, tosses it up and catches it. The moonlight glints off its rusted surface awkwardly, like it would over shattered glass. She tosses it up, higher this time, and then lets it fall, holding her palm open so that it digs into it. Blood spurts from the wound, and she smiles, drawing it to her lips.

Abruptly, she stops her drinking. "I know you're there," she breathes so that I'm not sure she even said it. "But I don't know why you follow me. If you're going to turn me back in, try, but I won't go easily." She shifts the nail in her hand so that she could stab me with it. I can see the blood running down her wrist from the puncture in her hand. I take a step closer, wondering if she might really try and stab me.

I hear her inhale deeply, and then with a loud cry she jumps to her feet and stabs the nail through my shoulder, where it buries itself almost to the head. I hiss at the sensation of the metal within me, though not in pain.

I catch her wrist with the damaged limb and force her to meet my single golden eye. Her own eyes widen in horror. "Who…what…what the hell are you?" she stammers.

I don't get a chance to tell her my name, for she rips her hand free and bolts off across the park into the depths of the trees. I sigh. I hadn't wanted our first meeting to be like this.

As I walk back to where I've parked Schuldig's red jeep, I pass by the bench that I had left her on that night. I yank eighty dollars out of my wallet (okay, Schuldig's wallet, but he was just gonna use it to by booze) and leave it there along with the name of my favorite knife retailer.

oxo

The bells on the door jangle as I push it open. The clerk at the desk looks up nervously, recognizes me, and looks back at his newspaper. I scan the aisles looking for Erika, knowing that she's here.

She's in the back of the store, admiring gorgeous blades with carved hilts. I casually start my way toward her.

It all happens too fast for me to really remember the exact order of things.

The door bursts open with several loud jangles and the shouts of "nobody move" ring through the air.

The knife Erika was holding falls to the ground with a clang and she quickly recovers it, holding it ready as the policemen move toward her.

"Sir, we're going to have to ask you to step back," the nearest cop orders and I consider disobeying, but I didn't think that'd be wise. I stand beside the clerk's counter, and I see the newspaper sitting open to page with the headline Insane Asylum Escape. Halfway down the page is Erika's mug shot. I wanted to throttle the man right then and there, but managed to restrain myself.

There was a cry from where the cops were surrounding Erika and I could see a man sprawled out on the floor, clutching a deeply gashed stomach. She runs her tongue along the blade, muck like I would have, mingling her blood with that of the dying officer, sighing in ecstasy at the taste. "Which one of you is next?" her voice is a deadly purr, and her eyes are filled with bloodlust very characteristic of my own.

She jabs out at another man, catching him in the hip and tearing open the flesh there. He screams as she moves to slice his throat, but in the same instant her blade bites his flesh a shot rings through the air. Just as the smile crosses Erika's features and the bloom of blood spurts from the officers neck, her face contorts in first confusion then pain. Blood and flesh spatter over the glass displays and the clerk at the desk whimpers. Erika falls to the ground, dead.

oxo

I only wish I could have really met her, for she seemed so much like myself. In fact now that I think of it, if Crawford hadn't picked me up those years ago, I would have ended up like this Erika Hathersfield had.

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Hope you liked this chapter too! It was harder to write than the last one, but that's because I like Schu better n Farf. Hope nobody was too surprised by the SchuxFarf pairing, but that's the only WK pairing I'm used to. -Der Traumer 


	3. Owned

Sorry it took so long to update, I've had the chapter written since Christmas, but couldn't find the time topost it till now. So sorry. Anyway, this chapter's a little less depressing I guess, just cuz it's sort of Romeo and Juliet, so you expect a tragic ending right?

Disclaimer: did i put a disclaimer in my last couple chapters? Neways, Schwarz doesn't belong to me, but the opposing team of psi's in this story do

Hope you enjoy, please read and review :)**

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**Owned**

can't breath  
unless they say so  
can't move  
unless they want you to  
can't love  
they won't allow it

I walked along the crowded sidewalks, busy with people doing their Christmas shopping. I wasn't lookingfor anything, just an escape from Schuldig's Christmas bashing and Farfarello's God-hatred.

The people are so merry and I'm reminded that that is a feeling that I'll never have. These people are happy because they have someone to love, whom they can buy Christmas gifts for. I don't love anyone, and I never will. I've accepted that. A freak like me can never love or be loved.

A cry from a secluded alley snaps me out of my thoughts, and without hesitation I make my way there. As I swing around the corner in time to see a girl, pinned beneath a man much larger than herself. I start to shout and to call upon my demonic powers, but by that time the man is already splattered over the adjacent wall. The girl is sitting, sobbing on the ground, staring at the remains in horror, but after a moment and another flicker of her eyes even those remnants disappear into dust. She stands and wipes her gloved hands off on her jeans. It is only now that she sees me. I'm staring at her in awe; I've never seen powers like mine that were that strong. Before I have a chance to recover from my shock a nearby trashcan hurls itself at me. I catch it with my powers, but I can see her out of the corner of my eye, dashing past me into the crowds.

I drop the trashcan, ignoring the stares of the surrounding people and disappear after her. "Wait!" I shout, seeing her dash around yet another bend and into another mob of people.

I see her look back for a just a moment, then she shoves past a man and dodges a woman coming at her with a stroller. I push past the same man, ignoring his curse as he fumbles with his bags.

I reach the corner of the sidewalk, where she is forced to stop by a bus crossing the intersection. She sees me right as the bus pulls past and tries to bolt but I grab her arm.

Her eyes flare like they did when she destroyed the man and I brace myself flinging up shields to ward off her telekinesis. To my shock it never comes. I open my eyes which I had squinted shut.

"You…you're like me?" her voice is a question. "You…you have powers too."

"Yeah," I answer, and the relief in her eyes makes me feel strangely warm. I look at her closer this time and see there is a spreading bruise down the side of her face. The purple only slightly distorts her otherwise beautiful features. Her eyes are a warm chocolate that matches her hair, which hangs to her shoulders in loose layers. Our eyes lock for those several moments and then I realize that she is staring awkwardly at my hand, which is still grasping her arm.

I let go, and look away. "Uh…you wanna go somewhere?"

She smiles warmly, as though she had forgotten the circumstances under which we met. "Yeah, I'd like that a lot."

"I'm Nagi," I introduce myself as she drinks deeply from a cup of hot chocolate.

She wipes her mouth with a napkin then replies. "I'm Teri, pleased to meet you, Nagi." She drinks again, then blows on the steam a little.

We sit in awkward silence for a moment and then her phone rings. Embarrassed, she pulls from her jacket pocket and flips it open. She scowls at the number on the screen, but says nothing.

"It's Teri," she says, sounding rattled.

I can hear the voice on the other line. It sounds mad. Real mad. But, I can't make out the words.

"Sure, Risho," she answers, then hangs up the phone. "I'm sorry, Nagi, but I have to go."

I fumble for something to say as I stand up. "Can I have your number?" I ask without realizing how cliché it sounds.

"No," she answers and zips her coat.

Hopeless, I ask, "Will I ever see you again?"

She looks at me, her face set, but her eyes sorrowing. "I hope not." Then she disappears into the crowds, leaving me to contemplate her words. I don't know what to say. That was closest I'd ever been to really happy, and it had left with the words, "I hope not." I clenched my fist and headed home, my mind clouded with hurt and confusion.

oxo

I slam the penthouse door behind me and drop my coat in the doorway, slipping off my shoes in the same motion.

"Nagi, where have you been?" Schuldig asks, meeting me at the door.

"Out," is all I answer.

I can feel Schuldig prying at my mind and slam down my shields before he can see anything. "Leave me alone, Schuldig," I snarl, and disappear into my room.

"Teenagers," he muses, "So goddamned emotional."

I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling, but not really seeing it. All I can see is that first smile Teri offered me, and then I watch it contort into the blank slate that told me she never wanted to see me again. I put my arm over my eyes, trying to forget. "I have to see you again," I mutter. "I have to know why you can't see me." I fling myself off the bed and sit down at the computer, hacking into Estet's main computer easily. From there I searched Teri and telekinesis.

I sifted through a half dozen useless files until I found the one I was looking for.

I sat back in satisfaction. There was Teri's picture and beside it was written her current address. I scribbled down the address and shoved it into my jeans pocket. Yanking my shoes back on and sliding into my coat, I bolted out the door.

oxo

Schuldig left his perch on the couch bothering Brad to ask Nagi where he was going, only to find that he had already disappeared out the door. "What the hell?" he mused.

From where he stood in the entry hall, he could see that Nagi's computer was still on. Curious, he walked in and looked at the screen. To his surprise, there was a picture of a girl on the screen. He stepped forward and read the name.

"Teri Gudou," he read, "Telekinetic, age 15. Well, I'll be damned, Nagi's got a crush." He scrolled down to read more on Nagi's potential girlfriend, and then halted when he read the profile and current location. "Oh my God!"

oxo

I was breathing heavily when I reached her townhouse, and tried to slow my breathing as I walked up the concrete steps. I knocked on the door, hoping that Teri would be the one to answer.

"Teri, get the door, dammit!" a drunken cry resounded through the entry hall.

"I'm getting it, Daren!" comes the reply.

She's not looking as she opens the door, but when she turns to face me I see a mix of horror and hurt mingle in her eyes. "Nagi," she whispers. "I told you we couldn't see each other anymore."

"But you hardly even know me, how can you say that?" I plead.

"Teri who's at the door?" the drunken slur calls.

"It's nobody, just some salesperson," she answers. "Look, I told you we couldn't see each other, and that's all I can tell you, okay. We're strangers from now on."

As she closes the door, I see the tear that leaks from her eye. I stand there on the pavement for several moments, when suddenly I see silhouettes in one of the bedroom windows. The window must be open because I can hear their voices to.

"What is this rubbish?" a somber voice calls, not the drunken one that'd been yelling about the door. "Is this what you think you're going to do when you get away from us?" He pauses and scoffs. "Well, Teri, I'll let you know, Estet is never going to let you get away from us!"

Sobs erupt from the shorter silhouette, as a figure lifted a small item from the bed. With abruptness he hurled it out the open window. I saw the black silk notebook hurdling towards the ground and caught it telekinetically and drew it to me.

"Diary" was stitched in red thread across the silky front.

He hated the idea of reading a girl's diary, but…He had to know what the reason was that she wouldn't see him.

He walked home, carrying the diary under one arm, with the intent of reading it that night.

oxo

It took Nagi a long time to get to the entry he wanted. Sadly all the entries he had skimmed thus far were depressing and told of a girl who felt imprisoned by her teammates, whom she never chose to be with. There were stories of abuse, both physical and mental, and missions that she had been forced to do, but never wanted to. But he did come to the most recent entry, which was also unfinished.

Dear Diary 

_I met a boy today, but I don't want to write his name for fear that Risho will find it. He's like me. He knows how I feel, how trapped I feel, how sad I am, how hard I wish that my childhood hadn't been robbed from me. I can see it in his every move. Diary, I want to spend forever with him, and you know how I hate to be dramatic, but Risho claims if he ever finds out "who the boy I was talking to in the park was, he'll kill him." And Risho would find him if I ever saw him again…_

Nagi was in shock. This was why she wouldn't see him. Maybe he could kidnap her away. She could become part of Schwarz, and they would protect her here. It would be perfect. With her…Nagi's thought never finished.

"Nagi!" Brad shouted from his office.

When Nagi got there, Schuldig and Farfarello were standing next to him. He had a glass of water in his hand and his glasses were sitting on his desk. He had had a vision.

"What'd you see?" Schuldig asked, already afraid of the answer.

"We're going to be attacked tomorrow by assassins sent by Estet," he stated mildly. "There's no avoiding it, they have a precog in their ranks that knows our every move as well as we know theirs."

"What do they have on their team?" Schuldig asked the question that he could hear reverberating in Nagi's mind.

"Two telekinetics, a precog, and a telepath. A very strong telepath, Schu, be careful."

I was in utter horror. I wanted to know if it was Teri, but I was too scared to get on my computer to look. I guess I really didn't want to know. I was too damn scared of the answer.

oxo

It was just like Crawford's prediction. They met us late at night on our way back from dinner. Just as Crawford said, there were four of them.

The precog was a little slut in a skimpy red dress who was perched on the roof of their car. The telekinetic was a sleek blond fellow with hooded coppery eyes that shone with a telekinetic's brightness. The telepath was a very big brawny man with swarthy black hair and beady black eyes. But it was the last telekinetic that I was looking for.

I almost gagged when I saw Teri standing behind the telepath in black cargo pants and fishnet shirt over a blood red tanktop. Her makeup was heavy and gave her a gothic evil look that I wouldn't have associated with her.

_:I'm sorry Nagi: _Schuldig's voice was a whisper through my mind, _:But I didn't have the heart to tell you.:_

_:It's okay…I think…Schu.:_

I looked up, meeting Teri's eyes, trying to muster a heartless mien, and failing. Her own emotions she wore on her sleeve. I could see the hurt in her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she mouthed to me from where she stood.

My eyes softened and I tried to think of a way to save her.

_:Keep hoping, you whelp, Teri'll die before she joins your ranks.:_

The voice was not Schuldig's, and I looked away from Teri to see the other telepath smirking broadly. Suddenly, though, with an abrupt scowl, he whirled on Teri. She squinted and tried to throw up mental barriers against him, but her short yelp said that he had ripped right through them.

"So, you're the boy she was with that day," he snarled, whirling back on me. "Well, Teri, looks like I found him. I'll have to make good on my word won't I?"

"Risho, no!" she cried and flung herself in front of Nagi, arms spread, her telekinetic shield strong around Nagi.

Her shield was too strong for Daren to break through to kill the whelp and he certainly couldn't shoot through it. He didn't want to kill Teri either. She was too valuable.

"How, noble, Teri, flinging shields around your boyfriend, but don't put any around yourself. You know if I ordered Daren to kill you now, the blast of your energy when you exploded into little bits would kill the boy behind you, maybe even his partners too."

Teri's stance didn't waver. "You're too chicken to kill me, Risho. You need me."

Risho waved Daren forward. I could feel the air around Daren vibrate with his energy.

"I would sacrifice you, Teri," Risho stated, "If it got my mission accomplished so easily. We wouldn't even have to tell Estet that Daren did it either."

Teri wavered for a moment, then suddenly Daren fell, gagging to the ground and died. His heart had stopped.

I watched in horror as Risho's face contorted with rage. "You little bitch! He was your teammate. He was like your own brother, dammit!"

"You were never my team, Risho, you were my prison guards. I'm not going back with you, unless it's in a body bag."

The next event was too fast for me to do anything about. Risho's face contorted further in rage, and then he drew his gun and fired it empty, leaving Teri a blood-soaked mess on the ground.

"Teri!" I screamed in agony and dropped to my knees beside her. Tears trailed down my face, tears of rage that I hadn't felt since Tot's death so long ago.

"Run," Brad ordered.

Farfarello and Schuldig looked at him questioningly.

"Just run," Brad ordered and already started away from Nagi. They were no more then a quarter a mile from the scene when all the buildings around them collapsed and several cries announced the deaths of Risho and the precog.

oxo

Nobody said anything when I walked in, for that much I was glad. I didn't want to talk about Teri, just savor her memory for myself.

As I lay in bed, Teri's diary clutched to my chest I realized how damned lucky I was to be with Schwarz and how easy it could have been for me to end up owned by a controlling team like Teri's.

* * *

Hope you liked this chapter, and if you can't guess the next chapter is supposed to be Brad, but I'm sorta stuck, feel free to offer any ideas! 

much love,  
Der Traumer


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